Signpost
by Mounty Swiss
Summary: Sgt. Saunders influences someone's life in an unexpected way. (Crossover Combat! (WHN) – Ironside (WHB))
1. Chapter 1

**Signpost**

Crossover Combat! (WHN) – Ironside (WHB)

Sgt. Saunders influences someone's life in an unexpected way.

_Warning for the fans of Robert Ironside: This is a back-story for Ed Brown. Unfortunately for you, the Chief will not show up.* _

**Summer 1945, Eureka Station, San Francisco**

Sergeant Saunders was in no hurry. Tomorrow he would fly to Hawaii and from there to one of the war theaters in the Pacific. But today he would take the time to do what he liked. He would have lunch with a friend, and right now he enjoyed seeing normal people do what they did on a normal day:  
Two teenage girls huddled together and under their breath they exchanged some obviously hilarious news. Men with briefcases tried to look busy and important. A woman had probably intended to wear her pink dress in the morning, but changed her mind after putting lipstick on: At any rate it did not fit together with her green gown. But then the high heels in light blue did not either. An elderly lady explained to her dachshund why he had to stop before crossing the road.

Normal life… that sounded so un-exciting. Some people took it for granted. Yet for the members of the military forces it was important enough to put their lives in the line to protect it. Normal life was the best thing that could happen to people.

Two children caught his attention. One of the boys obviously had Down syndrome. He was about ten or twelve years old – it was difficult to assess children with this disease - and had the typical stocky built. He was beaming with joy and chatting happily to his companion. This was not a parent or a guardian but a little boy of about six years. Saunders would not have stared at a handicapped person, but he could not help being amused about the little one in charge. Predominantly he seemed to consist of very thin legs which stuck out of blue shorts. The earnest face under the neatly parted brown hair was a little too square-jawed for such a young child, but apart from that unremarkable, except for his brown eyes which could have belonged to a puppy dog. The scene made Saunders smile because the boy was obviously a real gentleman: Not only did he yield to several people who seemed to be in a hurry, he also opened the door for an old man with a cane and picked a lady's handkerchief up for her. What a polite, gallant little fellow, almost like some French he had met during the past year! Yet when the kid returned to his brother – or was he his friend? - Saunders noticed that he was not just polite or well-educated. He cared for the handicapped boy in a very tender, protective way.

Saunders followed the two kids – or rather they chose the same direction as he did. They were the only passengers boarding the street car towards West Portal. Most of the passengers traveled downtown at this time of the day.

Out of habit Saunders took a seat at the rear end so he could overlook the entire car. The bigger boy wanted to look out of the rear window. Protectively the small one tried to get him to sit down. The handicapped one didn't stop chatting.

"Eddie, look!" Saunders did not understand most of what he said, but he learned that his name was Lenny and that Eddie was his friend.  
His deference to the small boy grew: He was behaving like an adult, patient, caring, considerate. Mostly he just listened, but when an unexpected movement of the wagon jarred Lenny, Eddie was there to prevent him from hitting his head.

Suddenly hell broke loose. Saunders heard the deafening bang of an explosion. He was thrown off his seat. He crashed hard into the one in front of him.  
His right arm took the brunt of the impact and Saunders felt it break. The lights went out.  
One of the children started to scream.  
Parts of the ceiling covering fell down, then stones, sand, rocks.  
The air was filled with thick dust, mixed with smoke, making breathing difficult.  
Sounders could not see a fire yet, but a short circuit might have caused a smoldering fire.  
Was this a Japanese attack? Or an accident? He had no way of knowing.

Training and instincts let him stay calm. He found in his pocket the small flashlight he had gotten just days before. He switched it on.  
Its purpose was to give enough light to find a door lock in the dark, not to assess the damage in a disaster. It would not last long.  
The streetcar ended two seats in front of him under debris. Sounders doubted that the driver could have survived.  
Other sounds mixed with the one of falling rubble…

One of the children was still crying, but the other tried to appease him – this had to be Eddie.  
When he saw the beam of the flashlight he approached Saunders.  
He had a bloody graze on his leg. For such a small child this must be painful, but the brave little fellow would not want to cry.

"Sir, are you all right?" he asked instead and started coughing.

"My arm is broken. What about your friend?" Lenny's crying had softened to a sob.

"He hurt his leg. Maybe it is broken too. Could you please help me get him out of here?"  
It was incredible: in the middle of Armageddon this boy was still polite! Obviously his manners prevented him from panicking, same as discipline his soldiers.

"Eddie – that's your name, isn't it? – we are in this together. Together we will get out."  
It was easier said than done, but there was no alternative.

"Can you see anything I could use as a sling for my arm?" he asked.  
He looked around, but everything seemed to be torn to pieces around him. Just for a second his gaze rested on the child's long-sleeved shirt.

Eddie understood this as a hint and took it off. He knotted the two sleeves together. "Is this what you mean? I'm Edward D. Brown … Ed."

In spite of the bad situation they were in Saunders almost laughed out loud. This kid knew how to tackle a problem!

They both turned towards Lenny, who was still sobbing. "Let's go, Lenny. This man will help you. Get up."

Helped by Saunders, Lenny rose to his one good foot.

The rear door of the street car was twisted and they had no chance of opening it.  
Ed looked out of one of the broken windows. Only now he seemed to realize what Saunders had heard minutes earlier: Where there had been the railway tracks, there was now a powerful stream! The explosion must have hit a body of water.

The smoke seemed to become thicker. They had to hurry to get away from it.

Saunders climbed out of a broken window and let himself down into the water, using his left arm only. Now he was grateful for every push-up he had done in the past!  
The water was too deep for either of the children; they would not be able to walk in it, not even with Saunders' help. They would be swept away immediately.  
"Ed, I will have to carry you."

"I see. I'll wait here until you come back."

"Eddie, I don't know if there will be time to come back later."

In the dim light it looked to him as if the boy understood what this meant. He nodded.

Saunders didn't know much about Down Syndrome, but he knew people like Lenny didn't usually live very long. Saunders had to save Ed… not to mention the fact that his chances of getting through the water in one piece were considerably higher with skinny Ed than with Lenny who had to be more than twice his weight.

As if Ed had read his mind he said: "Please take Lenny out before he panics."

Either way these puppy-dog eyes would haunt Saunders for the rest of his life: if he neglected Ed's wish and saved him, but also if he saved Lenny and… He blocked every thought about the consequences.  
Against better judgment he gave in: "I will. But I can't leave you here. If the overhead electric lines come in contact with the water it could get very dangerous."  
He meant 'deadly' but did not want to frighten the boy. He and fire had a history. The risk of fire worried him more than anything else. "There's a niche over there in the wall. Perhaps you can stay there."

"You keep very still, Lenny. Don't you worry, this man will not let anything happen to you," said Ed calmly and climbed out of the window.

The powerful streaming would have swept the child out of the niche too, but there was an iron hook. "Hold fast onto it, Ed!" ordered Saunders.  
Of course the kid would not be able to do this for a long time. Therefore the Sergeant took off his own belt and pulled it through the hook. "Now fix this around your body."

Meanwhile Lenny had started to cry again.  
"Thank you for bringing him out," said Ed, and Saunders' heart cramped at the thought that this could very well be his last words.

He went back to the street car and stretched out his arm towards Lenny: "Come here, Lenny, let's go."  
With his left arm he pulled the boy through the broken window and sat him on his hip. He was quite heavy to be carried that way.

Saunders had to concentrate on where to put his feet in the water.  
The mix of smoke and dust in the air made him cough.  
Lenny was quiet now, and trustfully he clung to the strong Sergeant. But to Saunders he seemed to become heavier with every step. This was as tough as any ordeal in France he had gone through.

After what seemed to be an eternity he reached an elevated point.  
Out of breath, he put Lenny down. He was at the end of his rope, and his right arm hurt like hell.  
Lenny would be more or less secure here. The air was much better here than near the center of the explosion. Sometime somebody would show up.

But what about Ed, whom he had left behind? Saunders had no way of knowing if he was still alive.

Should he go on and try to gather some men to help him get Eddie out? But how long would this take? And how much time would remain to safe the boy?  
The thought of the small child drowning slowly or fighting for breath and possibly choking made him sick.

No, he had to go back, no matter how exhausted he was. Every minute might count. Help might arrive too late.

"Wait here, Lenny. I must try to get Ed."

He was not sure if Lenny understood. But Saunders had to risk leaving him here.

Now Saunders had to fight against the current. The water seemed to get higher, and breathing became more difficult again. His chances of getting through to the child were minimal…

* * *

_Author's notes:_

_*This may seem odd to you. May I suggest to read my profile before posting an angry review?_

_Thank you very much, dear "Hamlette", for introducing me to 'Combat' and to Saunders and for helping me getting him in character!  
Thank you very much, dear 'Jodm', for helping me with the historical and geographical facts and for correcting the story!_


	2. Chapter 2

Saunder's chances of getting through to the child were minimal, and he knew it. But it never occurred to him to give up.  
Nobody would have expected him to risk his life knowing that the second child was maybe already dead.  
But he had risked his life more than once during the war, just because it had to be done. He would not let this brave little boy down, not even if there was hardly a chance…

When Saunders reached the train, his flashlight was barely brighter than a glow worm.  
The air was still very bad here.  
Saunders felt dizzy and weak and breathing was difficult, and he had no idea about how the small body of a child would react to the smoke.  
Where was that niche?  
The sound of coughing pointed him in the right direction.

When Ed saw the thin ray he shouted: "Sir!" but immediately his body was rocked by another coughing spell.  
He managed to open the belt and Saunders picked him up.  
Being exhausted, he was glad that the kid was nothing but skin and bones.

Fortunately the way back would be easier, since he did not have to fight against the current of the water. There was a chance after all…

Only for a second did he not pay attention – and his feet were swept from under him.  
Frantically he tried to get a hold of something – anything – with his legs.  
His broken arm was absolutely useless, and with the other he held the child.  
It was almost ironic: He had survived a thousand dangers in a brutal war. Should he now die in his peaceful home country? And engulf a helpless child with him?  
He forced himself to stay calm once again and think clearly. He could not help Ed the least this way. He could only let go of him and hope that he would hold onto him.

He did. The child clung to him for dear life.  
Saunders' hand scraped over rough stones… then he managed to grab a corner stone. His arm felt as if it were torn out of the armpit.  
He had to let go, but at least he had been slowed down.  
The next try was successful. He was able to clutch an iron bar in the wall. With his last ounce of strength, he stood up.  
The child started to cough and splutter uncontrollably, grasping for breath: the boy had almost drowned.

Carefully Saunders steadied himself against the wall, using the bar for support.  
Then he caught the child again with his left arm to take the pressure off his lungs.  
Slowly he seemed to get a little more air into them. Saunders felt his heartbeat towards his own chest; it felt racing like a little bird's.

Helplessly Saunders tried to soothe him.  
Finally his breathing became a bit less labored. "I'm fine!" he whispered into his rescuer's ear, but then he had to rest his head against the man's shoulder. The brave little fellow had to be as worn out as the Sergeant.

Saunders had to go on; they had to get out of this tunnel.  
Very, very thoroughly he put one foot in front of the other. He must not lose his footing again, it could have meant the child's death. But he was barely able to keep upright anymore, and the tiny child felt heavy on his arm. The water pulled at his legs as if it would make an effort to push him over. His strength waned far too fast…

Who had invented the old wife's tale of hellfire? Hell had to be like this – thundering water, not only around someone, but also in one's head…

Only the thought of the child on his arm made him go on.  
He had got it all wrong: How could the Good Lord let such a child see something like hell? It had to be something else entirely… and the Lord himself would help them out…  
Saunders would not give up.

Yet the thundering noise became louder by the second… louder and louder…

He was unaware that he had solid ground under his feet when he tumbled down.  
He was unaware that Ed squirmed free of his arm and – being unable to wake the sergeant up – groped his way towards the end of the tunnel to get help for him.  
He was unaware that strong hands laid him onto a stretcher and carried him out, and that he was taken to a hospital in an ambulance with blue lights switched on.

* * *

Much later he woke up in heaven.  
No, maybe not in heaven, because in heaven there was not supposed to be any pain, and his right arm definitely hurt, and so did his left hand.  
Probably he was not in heaven, but in a market garden: There were flowers everywhere.  
Saunders tried to focus, and now it became clear that his right arm was in a plaster cast and his left hand was bandaged.  
Slowly he started to remember: He had to be in a hospital. His arm was broken, and his hand was scratched.  
A coughing spell reminded him of the smoke he had inhaled.  
How might the children have fared, especially Ed, who had been exposed to the smoke much longer? Or - had he drowned after all? He had to know!  
But darkness overtook him once again…

When he woke up again there were even more flowers all around. They looked lovely.  
Who might have sent them? He did not have that many friends in San Francisco.  
His gaze fell on a newspaper on the night stand. The news of the explosion in the tunnel filled the front page. Perhaps it said something about the children.  
He managed to pick it up and read the article.  
He was called "the hero of Twin Peaks."  
A Japanese who had escaped from a detention camp had been apprehended by some soldiers. He had a threatening letter on him saying that the explosion in the Twin Peaks tunnel was only a foretaste of what would happen if the Japanese prisoners were not released: they would set off bombs in crowds of people. The paper said that his father had worked in the tunnel in 1917 and therefore knew where there were problems with subterranean water penetrating into the tunnel. It had been deflected, but the assailant had known where to place explosives to destroy the cladding of the tunnel to let the water stream into the tunnel. It was an accident that the streetcar had been right there when his timer went off.

The driver had been buried under the debris. The rescue team had to excavate him. He had some broken bones and a smoke intoxication, but he would recover.

Nobody had thought that anybody staying in the rear of the streetcar could have survived the accident.  
The rescue teams had tried to get through the destroyed vehicle from the front, but they would have reached the passengers too late.  
It was a miracle that nobody had died.  
One of the children involved was in hospital with a broken leg, but would be allowed to go home soon, and the other one had left the scene next to unscathed, thanks to an incredibly brave Sergeant of the U.S. Army…

The next day Saunders was already arguing with the doctors to let him leave the hospital when Ed Brown entered his room.  
He was limping a little and coughing from time to time, but apart from that he seemed to be just fine.  
He was followed by a tall, slender man and a pretty brown-haired woman: Mr. and Mrs. Brown. Saunders recognized the boy's features in his father's, but the puppy-dog eyes were undoubtedly an inheritance from his mother. They were dressed simply, but neatly – working class people in their Sunday clothes.

"We don't know how to thank you for the life of our son, Sir."

The child laid a small, cool object into Saunders' right hand.  
"Ed wants you to have this. It was his grandfather's."

Saunders was able to open the hand which stuck out of the cast.  
It was an old, slightly scratched silver pocket watch. Surprised Saunders pressed the crown and the case opened up.  
There was an old photograph of a slim couple in wedding clothes. Ed's grandparents?

"Ed, I can't accept this, it is an heirloom."

"You can," stated Mr. Brown drily. "Without you we would have an heirloom but no heir. I'm glad that it is the other way round."

Saunders was very touched, but like Mr. Brown he was no friend of sentimental talk.  
"Listen, my friend!" he said to Ed and put the watch back in his hand. "I want you to keep it. Keep it, and whenever you take a look at it you remember to try and make your grandfather and me proud of you, just make us proud of you. That understood, soldier?"

The boy looked up to him very seriously. "Understood, Sir."

"Thank you Sir," said his mother warmly. "May Ed stay with you a little longer?"

When they left Saunders had to suppress a smile because like Ed's, Mr. Brown's legs looked three inches too long.

Finally Saunders was alone with Ed.

Obviously the kid had something special on his mind.  
"Sir, I want to become like you… a soldier who protects the weak against the enemy and who rescues those who need rescuing. Fearless and faithful and strong. Please tell me how to get there."

To him, the frail, sensitive boy seemed to be more the intellectual type, and if he took after his father physically, then he would probably never be an athlete.

"Come here, Ed!"

He laid his arm around the child's narrow shoulders.

"Are you a good student?"

"I don't know. I'm only starting first grade in a few weeks."

Of course. He was tall for his age, so he had to be younger than what he looked.

"Ed, you are a smart young man. Try to learn a lot at school. Then go to college. After that there will be plenty of time to become a soldier."

Never had Saunders had a keener audience. The boy considered his opinion to be the gospel. He hung on his every word.  
Yet something still bothered him. "I will, I promise. But I won't become as strong as you just by studying, will I? Is there nothing else I can do?"

Saunders had to smile. "All right, Ed. Do you know how to do push-ups?"

"Yes, sir, I know how they are done – but I can't."

"Get on your knees. That way it's easier. Now try."

Eddie managed, although he started to cough again. He stood up. "But that was not a real push-up."

"If you do this every day, and each day one more, I assure you that you will be able to do a real push-up within two weeks. When you manage that, you try to do two, then three."  
Thinking of Ed's long legs he added: "And you run 100 yards today, tomorrow 101 and so on."  
Too late he realized that a kindergarten child would not be able to count to 100. But as it seemed to be most important for him to do his hero's biddings, Eddie would learn it very quickly… He might even get the knack of mathematics quicker than becoming a good sport…

_**Roughly two decades later…:**_

_(tbc)_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Roughly two decades later:**_

Saunders, now a police detective, went to see an old messmate, Lieutenant Fred Parker, in a VA hospital in San Francisco.  
As he was about to enter his room a very young, dark-haired nurse kept him back. "Excuse me, Sir, would you like to visit Lt. Parker?"

"Yes - or is he not well enough to have visitors?" Saunders asked concerned.

"No, no, he is doing just fine; he will be able to leave tomorrow. But there is a second patient in this room, a Marines officer.  
He arrived only the day before yesterday from Vietnam. The man has a back injury and I suppose he hardly got a wink of sleep last night.  
He needs rest now. Please, keep your voices low, or perhaps you take Lt. Parker down to the cafeteria."

"I will, thanks for telling me."

Yet when Saunders opened the door, he heard that there already was some noise: Fred Parker was standing at the other officer's bed, annoyed.

"What's the matter with you? Do you think that being a Marine means you have to play hero? You think you're better than everybody else, right?"

The man in the bed seemed to be quite tall. He was lying on his stomach.

His clenched fists lay besides his head and his slim body looked tensed up.  
Why did Parker yell at somebody who was obviously in pain? "Fred, what the heck…?"

Hearing his voice, both men turned their heads towards him.

The tall patient looked somehow familiar to Saunders… what was it?

The guy threw him a quizzical look.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Dunno."

"What's your name?"

"Ed Brown."

Immediately Saunders remembered where he had seen the brown puppy dog eyes in this clean-cut face.  
The Marine was none other than the little boy whose life he had saved many years ago.  
He was still no muscleman, but wiry and well-toned; he seemed to be in quite a bad shape though.

"Ed Brown!" With a few long strides Saunders reached the bed. For a few seconds he looked down at the patient, then at Lt. Parker.

"Fred, what's the problem here?"

"No problem, Saunders." Parker's voice did not sound convincing though.

"Come on, Fred, you know me. Don't try to fool me. Don't try."

Parker gave in. "Okay, the problem is that Mr. Marine here has to demonstrate that he is a tough guy!" he shouted angrily.

A flash went through Saunders' memory: A small boy insisting that his friend be saved first and therefore forcing him into risking his life – the exhaustion, because he had to go back to get Ed - the horrible moments when he had almost drowned – incredible fear and pain…  
Never had he thought of it that way before, after all Ed had only been a child.  
Could the brave child have grown into a boastful man?

Fred ranted on: "He thinks that he is superior to people needing painkillers. Too bad that nobody seems to notice!"

For a second Saunders was confused. He hardly recognized Ed as the man Fred tried to picture, and he didn't recognize Lt. Fred Parker at all.  
What had happened to him in Vietnam to let him become that bitter and mean?  
"Fred, I know this man. I can't believe that he hurt you enough to deserve being treated by you like this."

Fortunately, the door opened again and Fred's brother entered.

Fred turned around. "Come on, Sam!" he said unexpectedly for Saunders, "Let's leave these two old bosom-buddies to their old memories. I'm thirsty."

Together the Parker brothers left for a beer.  
Saunders shook his head in disbelief, then he turned his attention back to the Marine.

"Ed, do you recognize me?" he asked softly.

Brown nodded.

Saunders laid his hand on his arm. It was covered with a thin layer of sweat. "What was this all about? Is it true that you are refusing painkillers?"

He had to wait until the officer managed an answer.

"Some guys - become addicted - to them. Don't wanna - take a chance."

Sounders' thoughts somersaulted. He pulled a chair to the bed and sat down astride it.

"Lemme get this straight, young man. You aren't just talking about guys in general. You mean - Lt. Parker is an addict?"

"You've said that, not me."

Thoughtfully Saunders ran a hand through his hair. Things fitted well together, too well: Fred had indeed acted like an addict.  
Ed was right: a man could get into drugs quite easily, especially in Vietnam, where medication was often better available than adequate treatment.  
Since Brown was most probably quite a bright fellow he might have found out about Parker having a drug problem.  
Yet it was understandable that he did not want to denounce a fellow officer.  
It was bad for the Marine though that he overreacted by refusing what he needed to get well.

"Ed, do you still trust me?"

Surprise showed in the brown eyes. Slowly the patient nodded.

"I will help Fred Parker without mentioning you. But let me talk to a doctor about your medication first."

Another nod followed, although less convinced.

Saunders found the doctor in charge in the doctors' lounge.

* * *

"He refused the morphine when we wanted to give him a shot the day he arrived. Instead I gave him some pills… no, wait… Lt. Parker was in the hallway and said that he would take them to his roommate. Maybe they never even reached the right patient. Perhaps I should have taken notice when the nurse said that the boy had not eaten anything in two days… I'm afraid we have to notify the police if Lt. Parker really did steal the drugs."

Saunders looked out of the window without seeing anything.  
_Poor Fred,_ he thought. He had not chosen to become injured and addicted to medication in Vietnam. Perhaps he hoped getting hold of more painkillers if Ed complained about needing them.  
And poor Ed, who'd had the misfortune to become his roommate.  
"No. I'm a police officer myself. Let me handle the legal part. Yours is relieving Brown's pain and providing professional help for Parker's drug problem."

"I will take care of that immediately."

* * *

When Saunders came back to Ed's and Fred's room he found the Lieutenant bending over the Marine's bed.  
"Where do you hide them? Where do you hide them?" he kept repeating under his breath.

"Hey, what are you doing?" asked Saunders.

Stepping closer he saw that Parker was shaking Ed roughly – didn't he know what he did to the man with his back injury?!

"Fred, knock it off!"

Parker didn't react. He was trembling, but his hands grasped the weakened man's shoulders as he tried to get him to tell where he had hidden his painkillers.

Saunders recognized a cold turkey when he saw one. Words would not help.

Forcefully he started to pull Fred's hands away from the helpless victim.  
Fred fought the police officer with unexpected vigor. Saunders needed all his strength to get him away without hurting Ed any further and then restrain his attacker.  
When Parker felt that Saunders gained the upper hand, he wrest himself free and fled. It sounded as if he bumped into a serving trolley.  
Saunders didn't care about the ruckus out in the hallway.

Ed had grabbed the frame of his bed with both hands. His fists were closed so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was gasping for air.

Someone came into the room. Saunders heard a cry. He glanced towards the door.

For a moment the dark-haired nurse stood there like petrified. "Oh my G… hang on, Sir, I'll get a doctor!"

Seconds later Saunders let two of the men in white coats and an older nurse take his place at the officer's bed.

In a few words he explained what had happened then he let the staff do their job.

* * *

When he came out into the hallway Anne Carson, the young nurse, was still standing there, trembling, tears running over her face. Sympathetically he pulled her into a hug. His broad shoulders were what she needed right now. "Easy, does it. He'll be fine, don't you worry."

After quite a while she broke away and tried to dry her tears. "I'm sorry, Sir. It's just… they did not believe me when I said that something was wrong… and he needed help so badly… and I didn't know what to do…"

"It's all right. I understand."

"I have to go back to work now. Thank you, Sir. For everything."

* * *

Saunders went back into Ed's room. Fred's personal belongings were being removed. The poor guy would have to be moved to the psychiatric department.

Brown rested on his side. An IV provided him with what he needed.  
Saunders noticed that he was breathing steadily now. The angular face was still pale, and his eyes a little glassy, but for the first time he seemed to be relaxed. The medication had taken effect.

"How are you?"

"Fine." This had to be an outright lie, but it was what Saunders had hoped to hear.

"Ed, did you notice right away that Lt. Parker was abusing drugs?"

The Marine nodded.

"Why didn't you tell anybody that you had not got any medication? Why on earth?"

"How could I without blowing the whistle on him?" Finally Brown was capable of voicing an entire sentence in a row, although his voice was only a whisper.

"Well, I can understand that, although it isn't much more reasonable than not wanting to be rescued in that tunnel, remember?"

Ed's parents had kept all the newspaper articles about that explosion.  
Much later he had understood how much pressure he had put on Saunders. The man could have lost his life because of him…  
But he was still not ready to accept that the life of a handicapped child should be worth less than anybody else's.  
And he was sure that Saunders felt the same way.  
"You'd have gone back anyway, wouldn't you?"

Saunders grinned. It was true. "Is Lenny still alive?"

"No, but he lived to see his 25th birthday – a wonderful person spreading joy and laughter over everybody around him."

"That's what you needed, joy and laughter, right?"  
Ed Brown seemed to be a rather earnest young man. But since he looked quite embarrassed Saunders dropped the topic.  
"It looks as if you did the workout I recommended to you."

For the first time a smile went over Ed's face. "Yes, I did, and I also went to college. My hero, my shining example was right all along."

To Saunders it felt quite special to have been someone's hero without even knowing it. "What do you intend to do when you get out of here? They won't send you back to 'Nam."

"I would like to join the police. I want to protect the weak and the helpless, if not as a soldier, then in law enforcement." Meanwhile he had realized that Saunders was a police officer. "After that I'll make my own choices, I promise."

His smile became wider and made him look very young and boyish.

It would have been strange if… "Hey, there has already been made a choice without asking me, right? What is she like?"

The pale patient blushed right up to the ears. "Pretty, slim, dark-haired…a nurse…"

"… and her name is Anne*, right? Extremely nice girl. Invite me to your wedding!"

"How'd you guess?! But up to now I have never even talked to her. She may say no."

"There's only one way to find out."

* * *

_Author's notes:_

_*We know from the series "Ironside" that Anne didn't say no. For more see episode 3.26 "Tom Dayton is Loose Among Us"._

_Thank you again, "Hamlette" and "Jodm", for your big help!_


End file.
